


In Which Long Forgotten Tales Are Revealed To Those Who Do Their History Projects

by WirtsHarpSeal



Category: Over the Garden Wall (Cartoon)
Genre: Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-15
Updated: 2015-12-15
Packaged: 2018-05-06 23:17:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,160
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5434526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WirtsHarpSeal/pseuds/WirtsHarpSeal
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Wirt returned from the Unknown a month ago... and is still having trouble adjusting back to his usual life. His history teacher assigns the class to research someone influential from their town of Aberdale and present a short biography on them after Thanksgiving. Wirt chooses his because she has a familiar name... But as the night goes on and he reads her diary, he starts to wonder if the name wasn't just familiar...</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Long Forgotten Tales Are Revealed To Those Who Do Their History Projects

**In History Class...**

     “Good morning, everyone!” Mr. Ramond entered Wirt’s classroom cheerfully. Someone in the back remarked that this wasn’t a good sign. What was it this time, a pop quiz? _Damn it, I didn’t memorize the dates for this unit_ , Wirt groaned in his head, scolding himself in advance for his oncoming 60.

     “I figured this class has been too focused on the general history of America as a whole.” Everyone looked up, surprised. “As you know,” Mr. Ramond continued, “Aberdale is an early pilgrim settlement, founded in 1653.” Wirt let out a short chuckle, remembering his old nickname with the people of the Tavern. “I have here a list of influential-slash-interesting people from the early years of our existence in America. I’ll come around and let you pick, there’s more than enough for all of you. You will be doing a research project on whoever you choose, and present it to the class next week, let’s say... Thursday.” _Presentation. In front of the class._ Wirt started to panic. He hated presenting in front of his peers. Last time, someone threw a cucumber at him.

     Mr. Ramond came to him first, since he was in the front of the class. Wirt examined the list, though most were people that had statues up around town, in parks, in malls, anywhere people would see them and go “Wow, that person, whoever they were, must have been pretty awesome!”, and Wirt wasn’t feeling the need to educate people about someone they saw so frequently. Even if it was a statue. Then- _perfect!_ Lorna Hathaway. A familiar name might make him feel more comfortable, and he certainly hadn’t heard of her before. _Tried as a witch, 1703_ the description beside her name said. Wirt had always wondered about the witch trials. They seemed so... morbidly romantic. He pointed to her name. Mr. Ramond nodded.

     “That one sure is an interesting tale. I know there’s a copy of her firsthand diary in the library, along with some records of witch trials from the early 1700s. Be sure to check those out.”

     “Thanks,” Wirt said, writing _Lorna Hathaway_ in his notebook.

***

**The Library...**

     After dinner, Wirt grabbed his coat and rushed to the library, card in hand, hoping to get in some early research before it closed for the long weekend. He checked his watch. 7:22. He had until 9:00. _Good enough,_ Wirt decided, pushing the door open.

     “Hi Wirt,” the librarian, Miss Daniels, daughter of Old Lady Daniels, who lived across the street, greeted him. “How are you today?”

     “I’m great, thanks. I’m looking for a book on Lorna Hathaway...” he trailed off, unsure why he was telling her all this.

     “The Diary?” Miss Daniels asked.

     “You-” his voice cracked. “You know it?”

     “I happen to really enjoy first-person accounts on history. It’s over there, in aisle 500 with the historical records. Let me know if there’s any trouble.”

     “Thanks,” he took a couple steps backwards, waving, before spinning around to make his way to the shelves. “Harold... Hastings... Hathaway!” He mumbled, sliding his finger along the spines of the books. He carefully pulled the green hardcover off the shelf, and took out a chair from under the nearby table, sitting down to read it.

**Lorna Hathaway**

**The Diary of the Wicked**

_Wicked._ How coincidental that Lorna from the Unknown had believed herself just that. Wirt opened it to the first page and began to read.

_September 16, 1702_

_Day 20_

_I have finally opened this notebook Mother gave me before we left. I have decided that, as we approach America, that I should start to write about what I see. Firstly, we are coming to visit mother’s brother Quincy, who immigrated to America fifteen years ago to start his new business. He says it is doing poorly, so Father suggested the five of us come to help out until money is more abundant._

_Wait. Quincy?_   Wirt thought. _No, that would be too weird._

_Mother decided we should just move permanently, because it would be too much trouble to come all this way if we were not staying. I had to say goodbye to England before my fourteenth birthday, which was last week. I pray we will arrive soon. George is growing dangerously pale, and I fear for his health._

_Yours, Lorna_

     She sure talks a lot like Lorna did. But didn’t most people from then talk like that? Fourteen, huh? Wirt was fifteen. He knew all too well what it was like to worry for a brother’s safety. He raised his eyebrows, then flipped the page.

_September 30, 1702_

_Day 34_

_I fear I will not be able to write very often, things are getting worrisome out here. The captain says we should arrive in two week’s time, but I pray it will be sooner. William has contracted whatever illness has rendered his brother so sick. They are both bedridden, and terribly bored. I spend all my time trying to entertain them, but to no avail. The poor boys are very ill, and mother says there are others on the ship who are falling victim too. I will try to write more soon, but with such a situation, I know not when I will have the time._

_Yours very worried,_

_Lorna_

     Wirt sighed, staring at the page. It was hard to imagine what life must have been like for someone in her position. No home, a family that is becoming more and more fragile, nothing at all being certain. Only hope. Wirt supposed it was sort of similar to his experience in the Unknown, and yet...

_October 21, 1702_

_Day 55_

_It has been three weeks since I wrote in here, and unfortunately, I am unsure if I can continue. The boat is still far from shore, the captain says another week at least. Mother and Father have both fallen prey to the horrible illness. We’ve lost George to it. I am the only one left in sound health. I have been caring for them as much as I can, as well as I can, but it is not getting any better. I do not know where I will go from here. Who am I? I suppose I will try to find my Uncle Quincy. I pray he will know what to do._

_Goodbye._

_Lorna_

     Wirt leaned back in his chair, closing his eyes and letting out an audible sigh. This girl... He pressed his hands to his face, hoping to hide the tears that were forming. What a horrible life to have to live! Bracing himself, he turned the page.

_October 30, 1702_

_I no longer count the days. I am no longer at sea. The boat reached the mainland twenty minutes ago. In an unfortunate turn of events, I am the only one of the five members of my family to step foot on American soil. I intend to find my uncle, although he lives south of the river, and it is too dangerous to swim across. I must take another boat, and given I have no money, that will not be possible. I suppose I will ask the good people of Aberdale for work. If fortune smiles my way for once, perhaps I will get my happy ending._

_I will look forward for you._

_Lorna_

_They all died. They were all dead._ Wirt bowed his head, a sickening lump building up in his throat. The wave of nausea passed soon, and he pushed himself over his grief for the sake of learning what happened next.

_October 31, 1702_

_Ol’ Hallow’s Eve, they call it. I found work and a roof to sleep under with the Passings sisters, three nice old ladies who have offered to keep me safe and pay me a small wage for helping with housework. Esther Passings is very quiet, but she smiles very brightly, and it is very calming to be with her. Winifred is so kind, she cares for me and repaired my dresses. I think I like her best. Then, of course, there’s the eldest, Adelaide_

     Wirt rubbed his eyes in disbelief. _Adelaide Passings? Quincy the small business owner? Lorna the young girl tried as a witch? How was this possible? This couldn’t be possible._

     “Are you okay, Wirt?” Miss Daniels asked him. He jumped a little, not noticing she was there.

     “Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine. I’m just- can I sign this out?”

     “Of course! Let me get it for you.” He handed her the library card. She left briefly, then returned with the book and card.

     “There you go. You should get home soon, it’s getting late.”

     “Yeah. Thanks again!” Wirt took his book, pocketed his card, and left the library, walking home in the slightly chilled November air.

**At Home...**

     “Hey, Wirt!”

     “Hi, Greg.”

     “You look cold. And tired. And sad.”

     “I- I’m not. I’m just busy. Doing-” for a moment, Wirt forgot that his research had been a school project. It was beginning to feel more like a really coincidental hobby. “Work.” He finished, walking upstairs to his room. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, Greg. I need to do some more reading.”

     “Okay, Wirt. But don’t read too much. If I read too much, sometimes I get a stomach ache.”

     “That doesn’t really make sense, Greg. Good night.”

     “G’night, Wirt!” Once Wirt was locked in his bedroom, he pulled out the diary, grabbed his flashlight, and took to reading under the covers.

_Then, of course, there’s the eldest, Adelaide, who was the one who offered me work to begin with. She knits wonderfully, although she spends most of her time locked in her craft room, under the quilts Winifred made. I am not quite sure how I feel about this small home, but it is better than most places I could have ended up, I suppose._

_Until next time,_

_Lorna_

     Wirt smiled. She already sounded happier, and who says all Adelaides are evil witches in need of- child... servants...? So that was a sort of odd coincidence. It all had to be a huge coincidence. This couldn’t be them, really...

     He turned the page.

_December 24, 1702_

_Christmas has arrived, and I have had no time to write. I suppose I will have to keep this passage short, I think Adelaide needs me to sort her yarns again in a moment. The work never ends, honestly, but Adelaide says I’m lucky to have a roof over my head and not to be infected with the disease that killed my family. I suppose that is true. I hope she will lighten up for Christmas._

_I must go, Adelaide calls me!_

_Lorna_

_The work never ends..._ He remembered when Lorna told him that, but then, she was possessed by a spirit and controlled by Auntie Whispers and that bell... He started to hope that maybe this was Lorna, but how could it be? This Lorna died in 1703, when she was... Fifteen. His age. It all added up, he supposed, but how could they have met in the Unknown? He decided to think about this later.

_March 19, 1703_

_Winifred has been making me tea, as I grow more uneasy. My work is growing harder and more frequent, and the stress is taking a toll on my temper. We all made it through the cold winter, though Adelaide has become more fragile, and requires me to do more for her. I have so far earned a decent amount for a boat ticket, but I do not think I will be able to purchase one until after I am fifteen. Costs are getting higher, and jobs are getting harder. Soon, though. Soon I will find my uncle. Adelaide has returned from the doctor’s visit._

_I should go ask her what she needs from me._

_Lorna_

     “You don’t need to do that, Lorna! She’s using you!” Wirt accidentally said out loud. He really hoped Mom and Sam didn’t hear that. He checked the clock. It was 10:16. He was fine for time, so he continued to read.

_April 3, 1703 Winifred has offered to take me to town for a day. I think I would like that very much. Adelaide reluctantly agreed, and so I am glad to say that I will get a day off from the work next week! I will be sure to write all about it next I get the chance._

_Lorna_

     Wirt turned the page, only to find a very short passage.

_April 10, 1703_

_I do not think they like me here. In America, it seems people are much quicker to judge anyone who is different. I could hear them whisper as I passed through the streets. I wonder why people have come to be so judgemental._

_Lorna_

_So do I, Lorna. So do I_. Wirt read on.

_April 30, 1703_

_Esther was asked to look after the neighbor’s son for the day while the couple went to see the circus. The wee thing is only eight months old, and he is surprisingly quiet. When George and William were that age, they were much louder. I miss them with all my heart, and I hope they are doing well in the afterlife. Esther is surprisingly good with children. She should have been a teacher or a nanny. She told me that Adelaide would not allow her, and made her stay and help. I am surprised that Adelaide required help from such a young age. I will not question it, however, because I am sure Adelaide would not appreciate it. I hope I can get my payment soon, so I can finally leave. I admit, I will miss Winifred, who has been so good to me, but I do not think I could stand this dreadful place much longer._

_Lorna_

     She sounded so much like his Lorna. Lorna, who dreamed of escape, but never took it out of need for more assurance that things would be okay. Lorna, who was confined to a prison of work. He pitied her, truly, but he knew that he shouldn’t. _She’s much happier now, with Auntie Whispers, free of the spirit._ He decided, sighing, proud that she’d reached her happy ending. But that’s much further along in her story. He knew the beginning and the end. But where lied the middle? He turned the page and began the next passage.

_May 27, 1703_

_Adelaide has been having visitors quite often recently. The sisters will not tell me why, or where from. They always seem so lost. Whoever they are, they never seem to notice me. I am unsure what to make of this, yet I will wait. It should soon be revealed, as all lost things are._

_Lorna_

     It reminded Wirt of one of his poems he’d written about the Unknown. Something about _All that was lost is revealed._ He remembered when Jason Funderburker (the frog) got a hold of the paper he’d written it on. He’d chased him through the garden for an eternity before giving up. He never saw the poem again.

_June 16, 1703_

_I have been making more time to write these passages, but this time I must be very quick. I have just witnessed something truly horrifying, and I fear Adelaide will notice that I have ceased my polishing of the porcelain collection. I went to Adelaide’s craft room to ask her where the new bottle of polish was, where I saw her holding a golden bell, shaped like a small figure in a long dress._

_The bell,_ Wirt realized.

_This was not the oddity, however. She then began to chant nonesense, and a pale green mist began to emerge from the bell. I saw it form the shape of a demonic face, before Adelaide ushered it back inside the bell. I slipped away before she could see me, but now I fear I am in a household in which there is dangerous witchcraft. I never believed in such a thing, nor that it could be as harmful as society believes, but if that... spirit... can be true, I now fear for my safety. Yet, I still do not have enough money to take the boat. I will speak to Winifred about it, perhaps she will know what to do. I trust her with my secrets if it means I will be safe._

Until I have more guidance,

_Lorna_

     Wirt stared at the page. Had Adelaide made the bell? If she had, perhaps she had made Beatrice’s scissors, too. Maybe she specialized in enchanting golden objects that could control teenaged girls to serve her. What an oddly specific specialty. _Whatever. People can have as specific or not specific specialties as they wanted_ , he supposed.

_July 12, 1703_

_Winifred has confirmed my suspicions, after a long time of my probing. She, in fact, has told me that all three of them are witches, though it is only Adelaide who dabbles in the darkness. The visitors we had been recieving were lost souls she was guiding to something she referred to as the “deep voice”._

     Wirt remembered Adelaide saying something that lead him to believe she was influenced by the Beast. Perhaps this was where she began her partnership with him.

_Esther and Winifred only use magic when they deem it necessary, Winifred told me. She says it is dangerous, and if used improperly, can make you very wicked. I think I agree. Winifred also says that she will keep me safe from any darkness Adelaide brings near me. She says that since they are sisters, it is very hard for one’s magic to overcome the other’s. It is very reassuring to hear that I am not alone in my worries._

_Lorna_

      Wirt noticed that it was getting late very quickly. He didn’t care. Now that the concept of witchcraft was becoming more significant, he wanted to read more into it.

_August 29, 1703_

_It has been over a year since I first set sail for America. My fifteenth birthday is approaching. I have nearly enough money to make it across the river to my uncle’s. Winifred said she will come with me, and see me off at the docks. I look forward to leaving, finally, though I wish I did not have to leave her behind. She is becoming family to me, and I would never leave family like this if I could._

_Lorna_

     Wirt started to wonder where this was going. He tried to prepare himself for her imminent execution, but he couldn’t see how hope like this could so quickly turn to death.

_November 24, 1703_

_Today is the day I finally leave. I told Adelaide I was resigning, and was going to catch the boat across the river tomorrow morning. She forbade me, saying I must continue to work for her. Winifred and Esther tried to protest, but Adelaide remained stubborn. The sun has been down for hours, and I have my money and two spare dresses ready. Winifred said she will let me out soon, and we will escape. I must pack this book away now, for I must leave quickly._

_Lorna_

     Wirt knew this wasn’t how it would end. His heart broke, knowing just how much was about to change for her. He read on.

_November 25, 1703_

     Wirt furrowed his brow. _Wait, that was today. Only, well, 293 years ago_.

_I did not escape. I did not win. I did not live. My last words will be a curse on this plague of a town. Adelaide caught Winifred letting me out, just four hours ago. It is three in the morning. I can see the clock through my cell bars. Adelaide was furious that we disobeyed her. She shrieked, waking the whole town up. We tried to run, but she spoke the nonsense I heard so many months ago back when she enchanted the bell in her craft room. Winifred stopped, and tried to save me, she did, but the spirit was too strong. My dear little book, I have become wicked. She told me the darkness brings the spirit to the surface of my shell, and that I will devour all those who try to save me. She attempted to curse her sister, too, by turning her into an owl. However, as Winifred had told me before, the spell only began to work before Winifred’s magic overcame it. Her face is now bloated and deformed, almost inhuman. The townspeople witnessed it all, and attempted to capture us, exclaiming we were “witches”, practicing “witchcraft”. The spirit emerged from me in the darkness of the night, killing any who tried to take me, until one found the bell in Adelaide’s dress. He commanded the spirit to stop, and they arrested Adelaide, Winifred, and I, sentencing us each to a burning at the stake at dawn. I will be tried in only a few hours. I have no chance of being innocent. I pray I will be reunited with my family, for whom I have waited for so long. These are the last words I will write, and so I will make them very clear: If I am to die, may this town never hear the end of my cries. May they remember that I was wicked, but only when I was not good._

_Lorna_

     Wirt punched his pillow. His town was messed up, and he was feeling less patriotic than ever. How, how could anyone believe this was just? I _f fortune smiles my way just once,_ he remembered. _Perhaps I will get my happy ending._

     “I’m sorry, Lorna,” he whispered, turning the page.

_Thank you, Wirt._

_What?_ He didn’t know why, but there sat a page, with nothing on it but those three words. _This is impossible_ , he stared in disbelief.

     “This is impossible!” He burst, but quietly, so as not to disturb Mom. Or Sam. And yet there it was.

***

**Wirt Klossner, December 1, 1996**

**Lorna Hathaway was born in 1688 in a small English hamlet. Her Mother, Mary Hathaway (nee Endicott), received a letter from her brother Quincy Endicott in 1700, stating that his small tea business in America was not picking up, and he needed more help to become financially stable. Lorna’s family of five took a boat over in 1702, though Lorna was the only member of her family to survive the sixty-four day journey, as the rest fell ill to plague caused by excess salt in the ship’s meat. She found work and shelter with three kindly ladies known as the Passings sisters, who she stayed with until she had enough money to take another boat to her uncle’s property. Unfortunately, her life was cut short at fifteen when the townsfolk “witnessed” her performing “witchcraft” and burned her, along with two of the Passings sisters, Adelaide and Winifred, at the stake. It is said that Esther escaped, and when she died, went to the clouds to watch over the dreams of children.**

**It was tradition in Aberdale to curse the afterlives of witches before they were burned. Before Adelaide Passings was burned, she was told by the judge that she would never leave her prison and would burn like that morning if she tried. Lorna Hathaway was promised plague and suffering in hell. It is said she attempted to curse them back. Finally, Winifred was told she would never have companionship or happiness. As the flames rose, it is said the town could hear her murmurs. Some believe that if you stand where she was burned, you can still hear them. This is why she was given the nickname “Whispers”.**

**Lorna Hathaway was given an honorary grave in Eternal Gardens cemetery in Aberdale, the town in which she died.**

     “You know,” Wirt continued. “Lorna and I knew each other.”

     The class stared in confusion.

     “She’s 300 years older than you!” Kathleen shouted from the back.

     “That may be true,” he told her. “But though 300 years stood between us, we still managed to escape together, in a way.”

     “That’s vague,” Robbie said. “You gonna elaborate?”

     “I don’t have to tell you anything.”

***

     Since his discovery that the Unknown was in fact a region of the afterlife, Wirt had begun to make visits to the cemetery, searching for the graves of those he’d encountered. There were many that he discovered, but only a few that never left his thoughts.

     “Hi Wirt, what can I do for you today?”

     “Well, I’d like to return this,” Wirt placed the diary on the desk in front of Miss Daniels. “But I also have a question.”

     “Sure, ask away!”

     Wirt thought about all the people he’d met in the Unknown. All the people, who were dead, who had lived near here sometime long before he was born. He thought of the grave he visited most often, one he’d spent forever trying to find so he would know if it was all real or not. 

     “I need a book on someone... Who lived around, erm, early 1800s? Her name was Beatrice Wynne.”

**Author's Note:**

> (I wrote this all in one night because I was just really syked...) I hope you enjoyed it (and maybe had your mind blown a little?)! 
> 
> Some things to note:   
> The three sisters were Adelaide, Auntie Whispers, and the Queen of the Clouds  
> Lorna's brothers, William and George, have names similar to Wirt and Greg. This is why Quincy was so comfortable with accepting them as his nephews- he forgot the details!  
> The plague they died from was in fact real, and very common for settlers at the time.  
> The reference to "Into the Unknown" being Wirt's poem is justified by the music on his tape resembling the soundtrack (also the fact that Jason the frog stole it and ran away... to sing it, perhaps?)  
> The reference to the "Deep Voice" and the "Lost Spirits" are to the fact that Adelaide was acquainted with the Beast prior to her death.  
> The attempt Adelaide made to turn Winifred into an owl is a reference to the fact that Pat McHale based her character design off of illustrations of a folktale about a man who turned into an owl.
> 
> Also, Wirt's last name (Klossner) is German for Hermit.
> 
> Anyways, yeah! I hope you liked reading it!


End file.
